So inadvertently she tapped into her god-sized obsession and everything old was new again. All was quickly arranged.
Tom-Tom GPS’d the greek salad of streets. The doll intro’d her to the house & its mild old-house eccentricities. Gave her the keys and told her which opened what. Showed her the ancient alarm system thingie, still in perfect working order. Showed her the museumpiece home intercom system, still in perfect working order. A little pool cover retraction demo. Then Tom-Tom devoured her in bed god she’d do anything Tom-Tom asked, she’d suck a napping dog’s dick like in the Czech Animal Gangbang vid they watched before/during their fuck. She’d put a snake up her cunt like that other video, head in the cunt tail in the ass how the fuck did they even get the snake to do that she’d get reamed by a pig or a horse & do it unloaded. Tom-Tom always told her what riches lay ahead when they fucked, she’d whisper shit in her ear while she licked her clit and worked her dark * with a dildo, Tom-Tom’s deliberate funny retail sextalk which actually would have been hahaha if she wasn’t always on the verge of coming, like how she would buy her a $3,000 Katie Holmes — designed pantsuit or these $500 Opening Ceremony shoes by Chloë Sevigny or an Olsen twins $34,000 backpack or how some day she would lavish her with custom jewelry like the $25,000 diamond-encrusted pendant of Stewie from Family Guy that Justin Bieber had made. The Double T drove her to LAX & passionkissed her in Cherokee’s SUV (she gave TT the keys), Tom-Tom put all kinds of subtle notes, flavors and colors in that kiss, going-away bonus tracks, freebies Tom-Tom threw in as acknowledgement and compensation for the seriousness of the scarily timed Mt Olympus aerie temp gifting, in that she knew in her gut just how large and important a part it was to play in her immediate plans & fortunes, notes, colors & flavors that implied I think I might really love you, Cherokee, this time I’m not so blind I can’t see, to know we can have a life together, so hurry home my love, hurry home from yr white angel to yr angel of meth…
On the way back from the airport Tom-Tom thought about that whole period of her life: Season 3. Season of the witch, no doubt. She got suicidal when Fantasia leaked her Idol artifice to Perez H (she was sure it was fatass-ia) and in like 3 seconds it viral’d the web and national/international tabloids too… then backfired on the h8trs & she started getting calls like from Jimmy Kimmel, and Amy Poehler played her on SNL (Maya Rudolph did Fantasia & Ben Affleck played Simon). She got hundreds of emails from Idol h8trs — death threats too — she was having her quintessentially American-ironic Tonya Harding folk hero Anti-Idol t-shirt moment. Letterman even wanted her to read the Top 10 and she went to an office in Hollywood to be put on tape so they could see if she could do it. There weren’t any Top 10 jokes written for her yet so she read a Ten Questions You’re Afraid to Ask Condoleezza Rice. She read well so that they flew her to NYC & put her up in a hotel not far from the apt she used to deal out of. Tom-Tom was so nervous in the car that took her to the studio that she puked. Had to do a little unplanned smack. The studio was freezing, Letterman never talked to her backstage and introduced her by saying “We’re happy to have Tom-Tom on the show with us tonight. She flew out from California in Ryan Seacrest’s private jet… and if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge with multiple schlerosis to sell you.” The crowd roared & something sour shifted in her. She could smell the stink waft up from her panic mouth.
Top Ten Reasons Tom-Tom Should Have beaten Fantasia To Become the “American Idol”
10. In porn, “Tom-Tom”’s a top; “Fantasia”’s a bottom…
In a month, all the attention faded away. She became a self-h8tr whose dreams died stillborn.
Until now.
. .
Her Big Showrunner Idea:
She was part of a loose network of loosers angling for their own reality show… well Tom-Tom was angling anyway. A sorority/fraternity house all composed (in her conception) of one-time Idol contestants — though lately she’d considered broadening her sights to be more inclusive of The Voice, The Sing-Off, The Singing Bee, X-Factor, Going Platinum, &tc — who were sent home late or even way early in the game. Naturally no one could necessarily compete with Tom-Tom’s famous winnowing as a consequence of out-&-out larceny. No, the others would be more than content to make encore appearances, standard bearers of the usual sometimes-ludicrous sometimes-laughable always-lamentable hard-/softluck stories. Tom-Tom hadn’t yet begun her official reach-out, she took the reality show convention as a sign, that’s where she was intent on doing a major scout of minor talent. She believed in the 
s and their signs, that one needed only to cultivate the innate ability to interpret their meanings; she recognized the convergence of the convention and the Betty White godsend in which she would house and film her loser brethren a la Real Life/Big Brother to be a karmic omen in itself.
She had a wishlist of losers and loosers & was checking it twice: A) That punkbitch from Idol’s very 1st year who “signed” “When I Fall in Love” to his shit for brains deafass parents; B) Chris Golightly (season 9), who was raised by like 10,000 foster families, & ultimately bounced because he was already under contract to some fagboyband; C) Asia’h Epperson (season 7th), she of the annoyingly spelled name whose father’s head got Islam’d in a car wreck right before her audition so she changed the song to “How Do I Live Without You” & later got arrested for assaulting some ho at a hollywood club (which actually happened to be the night Asia’h & T’om-To’m f’irst m’et); D) Jamielynn (season the 6th), whose dad caught his wife with a lips-to-nuts dick in her mouth, so he agro-capped her then capped himself into below-the-chest paralysis, self-consigning to perma-bedsores, shit-stink rooms & morning hard-ons he probably never would even know he had, for the rest of his disgusto-burden life. And she really wanted to get Chris Medina, the shameless cunt who wheeled his useless, brainfucked wife onstage to blow Steve Tyler, and made Jenny from the Half-Black cry.
Tom-Tom knew it wouldn’t be easy getting all the leave-it-to-diva loosers to agree on what direction they should go viz her Master Plan. Just two weeks ago, a stoned/stoked TT called one of her fellow Idol ejectees to float the idea of a houseful of underdogs, a chronicle of the lives of a merry band of inside-outsiders (she was calling it Bad News Bears in her head, from one of her favorite movies), an odd squad overcoming kicks in the face on the road to Tinseltown triumph. Pitch it to VH1, Starz or TRU, one of those looser channels, they’d fuckin jump at it. Chrystle-Leigh (season 3) right away Debby Downer’d her by opining like some freakin expert on constitutional freakin law how Tom-Tom could never use Bad News Bears as the title without getting permission from the studio that made the movie, which of course… they never would grant, she said, no way. Like that was the point of the phone call, to ask this cunt what she thought of Tom-Tom’s provisional freakin title for her genius freakin show. Tom-Tom said, You know what? No one’s even seen the movie [you CUNT], no one even [fucking] remembers it [CUNT]. Wherein Chrystle-Leigh, Visiting Professor of Cuntology said, Well YOU did plus they don’t care if anyone remembers or not, they won’t let you use it unless you give em money upfront & even then they’re going to ask for ownership. Own this, you fucking diseased hooker. Then of course the cuntologist said ditto to Tom-Tom’s fallback title, Daydream Believers, TT felt like an ass for even bringing it up but she was loaded, she liked the way it sounded, she was excited & just wanted to put it out there. I don’t give a shit what we call it, she rejoindered, which of course wasn’t true, before puckering up: I think it’d be cool if you wanted to be part of the show. Tom-Tom knew she was going to have to kiss some looser ass if she wanted to get things rolling.